Page 3 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

Meanwhile, through the phone, Kendra’s getting louder: “—looking at in terms ofOh. My. God.”

The sounds of chaos erupt on the other end of the phone, and I figure the Midwest Tool Warehouse deals must be pretty incredible this year, until I hear Kendra yell,“Whose penis is this?”

I cannot believe I’m missing a meeting where somebody’s showing their penisis my first thought.

As I snatch the phone back from Chris and turn the screen to face me, my brain starts putting the pieces together. Not fast enough, though.

“MO ELLERY, DID YOU COME TO THIS MEETINGNAKED??” Kendra demands.

“Whoops, my wi-fi’s going out,” I say, making crackling noises with my voice like it’s an old-fashioned landline.

There’s another burst of chaos as I end the call.

Okay, so my video wasnotdisabled.

Chris blinks his bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes at me in shock. “Did your entire office just see my penis?”

Chapter 2

I go straight to the bathroom, lie on the cool tile floor, and proceed to hyperventilate.

After a couple of minutes, Chris comes in, pajama bottoms back on butsanssexy tent, and holds up my phone. Even from down here on the floor, his eyes are inflamed and puffy and terrible. He looks like a hungover possum.

“Kendra just sent you a text. You’re, um, fired.”

An involuntary wail, reminiscent of a car horn, comes out of me. This is bad. This is very bad. The walls close in, my chest tightens...

“Honestly, you can’t betoosurprised,” Chris says diplomatically. “What with all the nudity.”

“I’m having a heart attack,” I mumble.

“I don’t think you are,” he says.

“This is definitely a heart attack.”

“Speaking of,” he says, squatting next to me like a coach, “I’ve been thinking about hearts lately. As a doctor, we deal with them a lot.Really resilient organs. Can take tons of bad stuff and still be totally fine.”

“What are you talking about?” I groan.

“Do you want a paper bag to breathe into?” he asks helpfully.

This is his answer for everything. A pep talk and a paper bag. It’s adorable, but it does sometimes make me worry about his future in the medical field. “Yes.”

He starts to leave.

“Wait.” I stop him. “Hand me my phone. I can fix this. It’s not too late.”

Chris hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it a minute?”

“It’s my dying wish.”

“You’re not dy—”

“Hand me the phone.”

From the bathroom floor, I text a truly heartfelt apology to Kendra—one of my best—adding that I’ve been struggling a bit with this whole birthday thing, but I can be back in the office in fifteen minutes, and I hope we can all ultimately agree that this was hilarious.

When I don’t get a reply, I try Chris’s approach.